A Light In The Dark
by Athena Writer 24601
Summary: An abused Katniss is taken in by the Mellarks. Peeta works to heal her while enduring abuse himself, but when his mother starts hurting Katniss, can he save her? DISCONTINUED (possibly on a very long vacation)
1. Chapter 1

A Light In The Dark

Chapter One

Katniss POV

"I'm sorry, Mother!" I cry, backing away from her until I'm cornered against the kitchen counter. I yelp as her fist collides with my jaw and I go tumbling onto the floor. I put my hands over my face as she readies to strike me again. "Please-"

"Quit begging, you worthless piece of crap! You're pathetic! I can't believe I got such trash for a daughter!" she screams, kicking my ribs. I shriek and curl into a fetal position, trying to crawl away as she continues to kick me. One blow hits me in the face and I immediately feel fresh blood. "You're so weak!"

I look up just as she brings her foot down on my leg as hard as she can. I scream and hear a sickening crunch. "Please, stop!" Tears run freely down my face from the pain.

"Are you crying, you worthless girl?" she mocks, bringing a smacking blow to my head. I remotely feel my skull slamming into the floor, hear the resounding crack. Black spots dance in my vision as I struggle to see. I feel a trickle of blood from my temple.

My mother grabs my shirtsleeve and hauls me up, dragging me. I realize where she's taking me and wince. She opens the door and pushes me outside, into the pouring rain and darkness. It's really late at night, and I think the reason she beat me was because I came home late from Madge's house. Although, with my mother you never know. She beats me sometimes just because she wants to. My father, too, but fortunately he's been deployed to another district for his job. He's a lot stronger than my mother, and I'd have marks and bruises for months. This current beating is far worse than any I've received, though. She's never broken anything, not on purpose.

"I don't ever want to see you here again!" she screams. "Get the hell away from here!"

I stagger off in the rain, trying to see through the wet torrents and the darkness. I am limping terribly and the pain in my leg is unbearable. My nose is bleeding heavily, and I'm extremely dizzy from getting my head slammed. Where am I going? Where will I go? I have no family or close friends. I can't stay at Madge's, her father won't allow it. Nobody knows about my mother, and I can't tell anyone because she'll get me, somehow. She always threatens me that she'll kill me if I tell anybody. Is it even legal to abandon a fourteen-year-old in the streets?

Somehow, crazily, I am filled with the briefest sense of freedom. I don't have a home or any money, but at least I won't be abused anymore. Starving to death sounds like a better fate than being beaten to death.

I find myself in front of the bakery, my mouth watering from the delicious smells. It's late, and closed for the night, but there must be leftovers in the trash bins. My mother hasn't fed me in what? A week? I'm starving.

I open the lid and peer inside. Nothing. My heart sinks. I search the other bins, upset. The smell must be from inside. The lights are off, I think, but I'm sure the door is locked, and the windows might just be tinted. To check, I creep towards the door, but stop as soon as it bursts open.

"Get away!" a plump woman shrieks. "Stupid Seam brat!"

I stumble backwards and fall into a puddle of water, letting out a cry as my leg hits something. I pull my gaze up again to look at her and see that her husband is in the door, along with Peeta-

Peeta Mellark.

I am shocked and try to get up. Peeta goes to school with me. I don't know him too well, but he seems nice. How can his mother be such a witch?

However, I cry out and crumple back to the ground. My side is badly bruised, and since I just fell on my leg again it's unlikely I'll be able to walk. I hear Peeta's mother screaming more things at me, but I can't make them out. My head is spinning and even the pounding of the rain sounds distorted.

"Are you listening?" I hear her yell as she grabs my wrist. A pained sound escapes my mouth and I flinch, afraid she's going to hit me. She releases me, momentarily surprised.

"Helen, she's hurt." Peeta's father says, leaving his post at the doorframe. Peeta follows closely, curious. I cringe as he reaches for me, remembering all the horrible things my father's ever done to me.

"Please don't hurt me," I whisper, shivering.

His face looks a bit shocked, but then it softens in sudden understanding and pity. "I won't, I promise."

I relax and allow him to scoop me up. I hear his wife protesting, but he shushes her. Peeta follows silently. Before I can say anything, thank this man for his kindness, I am overwhelmed by pain and I black out in his arms.

When I wake up, my head throbs. My side is deathly sore and my leg is full of a constant pain. I cough and find my throat is dry and uncomfortable. I small moan escapes my lips as I examine my surroundings.

I'm on a couch, tucked in a blanket. I appear to be in a living room; nice furniture, a coffee table, a TV. It's painted nicely and neatly decorated, and for a moment I have a pang of jealousy. Our home is rundown because, well, they don't call it the Seam for nothing. It's a tucked-away area that the district likes to hide from visiting view because it's so poor. District 12, where you can starve to death in safety. Well, most people, anyways.

I don't even think we have a living room. I'm not sure, though, because I still feel dizzy. It takes me a few minutes to remember the events of last night-or what I hope was last night. I'm concerned that I was out any longer than that, because I don't want to be a burden. I'm probably costing them loads of money now for medical care, because my leg's in a splint and my side and head are wrapped. I should leave soon. Whatever small relief of being rescued that I felt, I now realize that was stupid. No one wants me, my mother has told me that many times before. I'm worthless and stupid, and I'm better off dead. Why on Earth would these people help me? There were plenty of starving or injured people out on the streets lately, and no one was expected to help them. I deserved to be hurt.

I try to get up, moving the blanket off my legs, which I see are badly bruised. I don't really want to know what my abdomen, ribs and face look like.

I stand up, but as soon as my broken (or fractured, or whatever, because I don't exactly know what's wrong with it but it hurts like hell) leg touches the ground, I cry out in pain and fall, hitting my elbow on a table and crumpling to the floor loudly. I bite my lip and will the tears not to come. I will not cry. I can deal with this pain. I have been through much worse, back when my father lived with us, before he left and we didn't see him for years. I was ten or eleven when he left, and so incredibly thankful he was gone. I was also happy, at that age, that my younger sister Prim had the opportunity to go to a boarding school in District 6. She's been there for years, but my mother won't allow her to come home. Good riddance, she says. I still miss her, but am glad that she's away from where my mother can hurt her. Prim is sweet and innocent, not worthless like me, and I would rather take the abuse then have Prim go through any more than she did. She cried every night, for me, anyways, after I'd been beaten. My mother usually left Prim alone, but was pretty mean to her and I was always worried it would escalate and my mother would begin hitting her.

The room starts to spin, and I grip the carpet, trying to make it still again. Finally it does, and just in time to see Peeta walk in.

I see him at school a lot, but recently I haven't because it's summertime and we can't afford anything from the bakery anyways. Peeta's a nice guy, and I bet he was surprised when they found me and his father dragged me out of the rain. I work with him in school projects sometimes, mostly because I don't have too many friends. Madge is a year older than me, and usually she's too distracted with her boyfriend, Gale Hawthorne, to notice me during the day. We do hang out after school sometimes, though.

I have never been too close to Peeta, but I knew he worked at his parents' bakery. I knew he was nice and had two older brothers. I also remember, on several occasions, him asking me how I got a certain bruise or mark or injury. I brushed it off, saying what I usually said when anyone commented. That I was clumsy and fell or something like that. Somehow I doubt he ever believed me, though fortunately he never pressed me for more details.

Peeta bends down on the ground. "Katniss?" he says gently. "Are you alright?"

"Mmm hmm," I mumble, trying to stand again but failing. I hit the ground again, swearing. Peeta takes my arms and helps me sit back on the couch.

"Let me go get you some water," he says, returning a minute later with a glass that I gulp down gratefully.

I set the glass down and frown at Peeta, who is now sitting in a chair next to the bed. "Why are you doing this?" I ask.

He looks confused. "What do you mean?"

I gesture to my splint and wraps, the warm blanket that is now askew on the floor, the empty glass of water. "Taking care of me. Being nice to me. You could've left me out there to die, and I honestly wouldn't blame you."

"Why not?" he says. "That'd be horrible of someone to leave you outside like that!"

"Not really," I tell him. "I'm pretty worthless."

He frowns. "That's not true. Who told you that?"

"My parents," I blurt, then cover my mouth, horrified by my mistake. "Please don't tell any-"

"Don't worry," he assures me. He looks concerned at my bruised legs. "Who did this to you, Katniss? Are you really that clumsy?" The sarcastic note in his voice stings me a little bit, but I can only assume he didn't mean to be rude.

"My mother," I say quietly, ashamed. "I deserved it, though."

He looks shocked. "Of course you don't deserve it! Katniss, how could you think that?"

I shrug. "It's true."

"How long has this been going on?" Peeta asks. At my hesitant look, he says, "I already know the main part, so there's no use not telling me the rest."

"Pretty much all my life. My father was horrible, but he left for his job in another district. So I don't have to worry about...that kind of abuse." I say. "My mom hates me and beats me almost every night. Last night, or whenever you found me, she basically disowned me."

Peeta looks angry. "She doesn't have a right to do that. I thought something like that was going on, when you flinched like we were going to hurt you. My father thinks you've been abused, too, because he said you seemed deathly afraid of him."

I nod blankly. "I don't really trust men."

"My dad's a great guy, he'd never try to hurt you or anyone else. It's my mom you have to look out for." Peeta says honestly. "Don't tell her I said that."

Surprised, I impulsively ask, "She's abusive too?"

Peeta winces. "Well, I guess. Not as bad as your mom, but she sometimes hits us or tries to put down our self-confidence. It's okay, really. I manage. My dad's not around when it happens, and it's not really worth telling him. Besides, he kind of knows that Mom's a witch. She wasn't always like that, though. She was nice when we were kids. Rye and Brandon said she was pretty okay until the first Reaping when any of our names were entered, when Rye was twelve. I was only six or seven at the time, but she got real mean after that for some reason."

"Sounds like she was just stressed out," I tell him. "At least she cares enough to not want to Reaped. My mother always wants me to be Reaped so I would be slaughtered."

Peeta eyes me with pity, which irritates me. I don't need his pity. I don't need his help, either. Why are these people so nice? Most others wouldn't care. I should leave, because I'm wasting their time and using up their hard-earned money.

"Peeta..." I say. "I should probably leave soon."

"You're in no shape to leave!" says his father as he walks in.

"You have no where to go, Katniss," Peeta says.

I'm angry now. Why is he telling me this? To make everything worse? "I know, but you don't have to say that," I tell them both sharply, glaring down at my lap. "You're not helping. I'll probably just have to go live in a children's home."

Peeta and his father exchange glances. Mr. Mellark clears his throat. "Well, Katniss, we were...we were wondering if you'd like to stay with us."

My eyes shoot up. "What? Why would you do that?"

"Well, because you're injured, and..." Peeta starts, sounding uncomfortable. "And you probably need some help."

I feel my face burning, and I look away from them and out the window. _Help_? As in _emotional help_? To get over everything I've been through? Great. I wasn't going to admit it, but he was probably right. Although, I'm pretty sure therapy won't help, no matter how many sessions I go through.

"Katniss-" he says, reaching for my arm. Probably to make a nice gesture-but out of old habits, I draw back quickly.

"Don't touch me," I snap. Then I relax a bit, seeing both of their concerned faces. It's as if they're saying, '_See? You don't even let people touch you without flinching.' _"Sorry." I apologize, humiliated yet again by my damage.

"Katniss," Peeta says, wisely not trying to touch me this time, "it's not your fault."

"What do you mean?" I say casually, drawing my knees to my chest.

He sighs. "You know what I mean. What happened...what your parents did to you..."

I press my face into my knees. "Stop, please. I don't want to think about it."

I can almost feel Peeta and his father exchanging yet another look. What is it with them? I really just want to be left alone. "Katniss, why don't you stay here a little while?" Mr. Mellark's gentle voice cuts into my thoughts. "See how you like it?"

"I don't want to be a burden," I mumble, lifting my head up to look at them apologetically. "I already burdened my parents for fourteen years."

For the first time, Mr Mellark look angry, but I can tell it's not directed at me. "You're not a burden, Katniss, it's you're goddamn parents who are _your _burden. You're fourteen, and your parents have no right to do that to you."

I nod silently. I do want to stay, but I still feel extremely selfish. A sudden thought occurs to me, and I sit up, bolt straight, and grab his arm as he turns to go. "I can't stay. My mother...my parents always said they'd kill me and my sister if I told anyone."

He takes my hand gently and looks me in the eyes. "She won't do that. I promise. You're safe with us, and isn't your sister in another district at a boarding school or something?"

I nod. "She never comes home."

"Well, then, you'll be fine." he assures me. "You can stay, I promise you aren't a burden."

"What about your wife?" I say quietly.

"What?"

"Your wife, sir," I tell him honestly. "She hates me. I'm a Seam brat, remember?"

"It'll be fine," he says. "I'll convince her you're nothing to worry about."

I shrug. "Are you sure about this? I can always leave..."

"You'll do no such thing," Mr. Mellark says firmly. "You need to stay in bed until you're better, and then you can live here. Peeta, come on, let's go make breakfast."

I'm surprised when they bring some food in for me, twenty minutes later. "This is for me?"

Mr. Mellark laughs. "It's all yours. You definitely look like you need some."

"My mom never fed me," I say honestly. "I haven't eaten in a week."

Peeta stays to watch me eat, while his father leaves. "Have you ever iced a cake before?" he asks me.

I stare at him. "No..."

Peeta looks thoughtful. "I could teach you. I do the cakes here, you know."

"Really? They're beautiful," I say, deciding not to mention how I'd always been bitterly jealous because we couldn't ever afford anything from the bakery. "I'd like to learn."

He grins. "I'll show you when you're better. I think you'll like living here. It'll be fun."

I allow myself a small, half-smile, the first one in months. I haven't had much reason to smile lately. "That would be nice. I have to warn you, though, I'm pretty awful. The art teacher at school hates me, you know?"

Peeta laughs. "I'm sure we can improve your art skills. It just takes a lot of practice."

"I'm going to need quite a lot of practice, Peeta," I tell him honestly, picturing the absolute mess his kitchen and bakery will be when I'm done attempting do decorate a cake. This must appear on my face as a grimace, because Peeta laughs even harder. Before I know it, I've joined in. Laughing is something I haven't done in quite a long time, and it feels good.

When we're done laughing, Peeta takes my empty plate out of the room. He promises he'll come see me this afternoon, after he's off of his bakery shift. I nod-finally, if not slightly-happy. I have a home now, even if I do feel a little bit guilty. I have hope. Nobody can hurt me again.

Or so I think.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the reviews! Seven for one chapter! Wow!

This chapter is a little short, but the next will be up immediately after because it's already done! And chapter 3 is longer, don't worry. :D Reviews are greatly appreciated!

A Light In The Dark

Chapter Two

The days pass quickly, and I find myself feeling better. Physically, though. I still don't really trust anyone in the house, especially not Peeta's witch of a mother. I know I got some strange looks as I sharply drew away from Peeta's oldest brother, who reached across me at dinner get the bowl of bread. It wasn't my fault, I thought he was going to hit me when his hand shot out.

I have nightmares, almost every day, from the time my head hits the pillow to my waking moments. Sometimes I'll thrash and fall out of the bed and awake in a tangled mess of curtains. Other times, I scream until my throat is raw and Peeta rushes into the room to rouse me from my hellish slumber. He'll sit with me until I've calmed down, and then wait for me to fall back asleep before leaving.

Mrs. Mellark usually gives me dirty looks and avoids speaking with me whenever possible. She doesn't, however, try to hit me or anything of the sort. It's surprising, really, that she hasn't attacked and beaten me, the way she acts when I'm around. I have a feeling the only reason she won't touch me is because Mr. Mellark is constantly around, making sure she doesn't.

About a week after starting a new life with the Mellarks, I decide to get out of the house. Mrs. Mellark grudgingly hands me a grocery list and some money. I head out and buy various things needed for both the family and the bakery; soap, milk, eggs, flour, and a few other items.

I have one more errand, to pick up some leather, and that can only be found in the Hob, the black market trade center in the Seam. I am a little concerned I might meet my mother, but I quickly dismiss the thought. My mother never went to the Hob. I will be safe.

I head over to Greasy Sae's stand in the broken, seemingly abandoned building. Most people think she just sells the daily hunting meat, but if you ask she will supply you with leather or other rare materials.

After I double-check the list to ensure I bought everything, I decide to take a shortcut to the bakery, through the alleys. It's dangerously close to my old home, but I pass it without a problem.

I'm in the alley behind the bakery when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn and scream.

My mother.

I try to scream again, maybe Peeta will hear me and come. However, I choke on it, paralyzed by terror, and all that escapes my mouth is a strangled gasp.

"Thought you could come that close to home again?" she snarls, stepping towards me.

I stumble backwards and find I'm pinned to the wall. "I-I..." I can barely speak, I'm so paralyzed by fear. What is she going to do to me? "Please-"

_Slap! _I wince as she hits me across the face. "Enough begging, you stupid, worthless girl! Why do you always beg for mercy? Why can't you just take what you deserve? You're pathetic!"

My eyes sting with tears, just as my heart stings with all the insults. _Worthless. Pathetic. Stupid. _It's enough to make me want to cower under my bed, curled into an empty ball, like I did so often as a child. But now there's nowhere to hide, no door to lock against my mother.

"Crying again, Katniss?" she mocks, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I clench my jaw, my breathing getting rapider. I take a huge breath and attempt to gather some courage.

"Go away, Mother," I say. "I live here now-" I jerk my head towards the bakery behind me, "and I was only running an errand-"

She lunges forward and punches me, as hard as she can, and I choke and gag as the air leaves my lungs abruptly. I bend over, trying to regain my breath, and she shoves me onto the ground. I am horrified and try to scramble up; if I am on the ground, she can kick me, and that will end awfully. Before I can get up, however, she slams my head into the ground and slaps me again.

My mother's hateful hands close around my throat. A terrible noise escapes my mouth; somewhere between a gargle and a scream and a retch. I flail and panic, kicking and struggling as much as possible. She lifts up my head and pushes it back on the concrete, up and down.

In my dizziness, I feel her let go of me. I inhale deeply and sit up, relieved. Where did she go? I look around and see her coming towards me with a large rock.

I turn towards the bakery window, which is never open but isn't anywhere close to soundproof, and shriek as loud as possible, the cry echoing along the narrow alley.

_Please, Peeta. Please. _

Why can't I defend myself against my own mother? I _am _pathetic. I should be able to run away or something. I shouldn't rely on Peeta. He's probably irritated with me. He must see me as I am; worthless and stupid. My face burns in shame as my mother bears down upon me and traps me against the wall.

The first blow is the worst. She brings it to my ribcage, and I scream, trying to writhe away, but my wrists are pinned. My mother is unbelievably strong.

"Hiding in the store, are you?" she cackles. She really is a real-life witch. "That baker boy doesn't really like you. He hates you, and you should get away from him before you wreck his family like you wrecked ours. You're stupid and ugly and fat."

The next blows follow and begin to blur together as I scream. Somehow, I end up on the ground again. I'm crying, sobbing, attempting to block the strikes. At one point, it starts raining and I can no longer see clearly.

Something suddenly drags away the monstrous shape I assume to be my mother. I squint and with a start, see it's Peeta. But he's too late, the damage has been done. My mother's convinced me and made me see the truth.

"Oh God, Katniss," he says, kneeling next to me. "I'm so sorry." No you're not. He reaches for me, and I cringe, turning my back to him.

"Get away from me," I rasp, my throat damaged from my mother's iron choke hold.

I see his reflection in the window; hurt. Not what I expected, but perhaps he's just faking it.

"Kat," he says. "Please."

"No," I hiss. "Didn't you hear me? I don't want your help anymore."

"Why is that?"

"You hate me. If you don't now, you will soon. You'll see me for what I really am."

"What do you mean?" Peeta looks worried now.

I force myself to meet his blue eyes. "My mother's right. I'm worthless and pathetic and stupid, and fat and ugly. Why would you care about me?"

"Katniss," he says, his voice pained. He looks sad. "You're none of those things."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not! Please, believe me!"

Trembling, I stare at the rain washing dirt down the gutter, behind him. "I don't. I never will."

"Kat-"

"Don't _touch _me!" I yell, slapping his hand away. I burst into sobs, wrapping my arms around my knees and hiding my face in them. My body shakes as I cry, the rain soaking my back.

"Why won't you believe me, Kat?" he asks, so softly I barely hear it through the rain.

I look up at him, my bruised face tearstained and shattered, my wet hair sticking to it. "Because of her. Because I'm too broken."

I resume to my huddled position. A few minutes later, Peeta scoops me up and carries me inside, much like his father did weeks ago. I do not protest, simply shiver and cry as he tucks me into the bed in the guest bedroom.

As he leaves, I can swear I see tears in his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter contains some mild language. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **

A Light In The Dark

Ch 3

I don't get up the next day. I just lay there and stare at the ceiling, wondering why everything is so messed up. I wonder, but deep down I know the reason, buried inside me.

It's because of me.

At one point, Peeta sticks his head in the room and starts talking gently to me. But I guess he realizes I'm not going to answer or get up. I stare right through him, and finally he sighs sadly and shuts the door.

Haunting thoughts float around in my brain. Stupid, trash, ugly. I've messed everything up. I should have just taken the abuse, lived on the streets, not looked for bread in Peeta's trash can. I should not have ever bothered the Mellarks. I'm only going to tear apart their family.

Mr. Mellark was wrong. I am a burden.

As the daily afternoon rain begins to pour down, I turn over on my stomach and scream into my pillow. I scream until my throat is empty and I can't make a sound. What is wrong with me?

I squeeze my eyes shut as a wetness trickles down my face. The rain pounds and pours, just like my tears. I am sobbing, shaking. I am miserable.

My fingers grip the pillow like a vice. I try to scream again, but all that comes from my broken lips is a moan.

I pull myself from bed with difficulty. It's as if gravity has doubled. I stagger towards the bathroom and scowl at the messy, pathetic girl in the mirror. Is it really me?

I howl and slam my fist into the mirror. My hand stings as I hit it again and again, the cracks growing larger, but it's a good pain. I deserve it, don't I?

An hour later, Peeta finds me crumpled on the floor, broken glass and my blood everywhere, crying. Wordlessly, he returns me to my bed, where I bury my face in my pillow yet again, tears soaking the pillow. He strokes my hair and whispers comforting things.

These acts of kindness will never be enough to fix me, but they come pretty close.

********************************_page break**************************************_

I wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out to the space where Peeta was. I start crying again, because he's gone, because of me. Was it a dream?

No, it wasn't. And that makes it all the more painful.

I can't return to sleep, so I lie in darkness until the sun peers into the room. I walk out the door, stepping downstairs.

Peeta's the only one up, baking neatly. He offers me a soft smile before it vanishes from worry.

"Oh, Katniss, your hands!" he gasps, gently leading me to the table. "We need to bandage them!"

I sit quietly as he cleans and wraps my cut hands, staring blankly out the window. When he's done, he eyes me seriously. "Why were you hitting the mirror?"

I answer as truthfully as I can. "Because I don't like what I see."

Peeta winces. "Kat..."

"Why are you so damn concerned about me, Peeta? What have I ever done for you that gives you the right to be nice?" I shoot, standing up. "You're bound to lose patience with me eventually."

"Well, I..." He trails off, looking unsure. "I love you, Katniss."

If looks could kill, Peeta would've been a goner. "_What? _Why the _hell _would you _like _me?"

"Kat-"

"Did my mother put you up to this?" I scream. "Is this your plan to drive me over the edge? To say you love me, just to make me feel like someone actually does, and then make a fool of me? What the _hell_, Peeta?"

Again with his pained expression. This behavior would normally be enough to make people furious. So why wasn't Peeta mad?

"Katniss, please-"

"Don't _talk _to me like that, like you _aren't _lying! You hate me, Peeta Mellark. Admit it!"

"I don't." He says, barely audible. Then again, more determined. "I don't hate you, Katniss, and I don't know where you got that idea either."

As soon as he says it he looks as if he regrets it. Of course he knows. My mother. My horrible witch of a mother who deserves to rot in hell.

Probably along with me.

"I'm sorry, Kat!" he says quickly. "Please-"

I'm not sure why this "please" irritates me so much, but it does. Perhaps it's because my mother made the use of it unacceptable. "Don't _beg_, Peeta!" I yell. "Don't even dare! I have enough problems without your damned-"

I drop off as Mr. Mellark walks in, looking alarmed. "What's going on in here? Katniss, are you alright?"

I open my mouth, but Peeta beats me to it. "Nothing, Dad. We're fine." He shoots his father a look that says to be quiet.

Mr. Mellark nods and starts cooking breakfast. I sit and glare at Peeta, who just stares solemnly back. My stomach grumbles loudly and I look away from him. I haven't eaten in two, three days? I've really lost track.

The food is put in front of me first. "Katniss," Mr. Mellark says sternly, "you need to eat."

I nod and pick up my fork. My food is gone within a matter of minutes, my argument with Peeta forgotten. Minutes pass, and Rye and Brandon come in, followed by Mrs. Mellark.

Peeta's mother scowls at me as she sits down. "Woke me up with your damn screaming, girl."

"Helen, stop it," Mr. Mellark scolds. "She's been having a rough time lately."

"Oh, has she?" she says mockingly. "You'd better be careful, girl."

I spend the day baking with Peeta, my mind active but my heart empty. I follow Peeta's gentle instructions without speaking, without asking any questions. I feel a bit like the uncooked bread; flat, boring, useless and gross. However, fixing me is not a simple matter of cooking me.

Dinner arrives, and nobody speaks. It's a silent affair, with the clinking of glasses and silverware the only noise. Finally, Helen clears her throat and goes to wash dishes. The sun is setting, and although it's not quite eight, I decide to go to bed early. I'm exhausted, after all.

I climb under the covers still wearing my clothes that Helen has reluctantly supplied me with. If it wasn't for her husband, and Peeta, she'd probably let me starve and live in one set of clothes. If she let me live. It wouldn't be surprising.

My eyes are slipping shut when I hear a huge crash from below. I jump about a foot and curse. Somebody must've dropped something. Helen is going to be extremely upset.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, I hear an enraged shriek that makes my skin crawl. I hear a voice-Peeta's voice-and then a blow that sends me rushing out the door.

Rye and Brandon stand out in the dark hall, their faces ashen. It looks as if they're used to it but haven't quite gotten over it. Peeta's their youngest brother, after all.

Anger fills me. Why aren't they doing anything? More shouts and slaps echo from downstairs, and I hiss at them, "Why are you just standing here?"

Rye shrugs. "There's nothing we can do. If we try to stop it, she'll just beat us too. Dad's asleep already, and nobody tells him."

I scowl. Selfish of them. I'm going to take matters into my own hands.

I run down to the bakery kitchen. Peeta is backed against the wall, flinching, a bruise already forming on his cheek.

His eyes widen when he sees me. Helen turns, her face red with anger. "Katniss. Go upstairs. Now."

"But-" I start, stopping as she lunges towards me.

Years of dodging blows and punches from my parents has gotten me used to moving, so I easily duck and scramble backwards, towards the stairs. I'm shocked she tried to hit me. Judging by Peeta's expression, he is too. He also appears angry.

"GO UPSTAIRS!" she shouts.

"Kat," Peeta says, "please. I'll be fine."

Slowly, I back up the stairs. I'm barely out of sight when I hear another punch and Peeta's grunt of pain. I clench my fists angrily. How dare she do this to Peeta, who's kind and selfless? I should be in his place, taking the pain for him. I deserve it, not him.

Peeta told me it wasn't bad at all, that she hits sometimes and is mean. But this is a flat-out _beating. _It's horrible. He lied just so he wouldn't worry me.

Ten minutes later, Peeta staggers up the stairs, his face bruised and his arms bloody. His brothers have already left.

"Oh, Peeta, I'm so sorry," I say as I burst into tears.

"Shh," he says kindly, gathering me into his arms, carrying me to my room. "Don't worry about me."

"But-"

"Katniss." He tilts my chin so I'm looking at him. "I'm fine. I'm just glad you're okay. That she didn't hit you. I will never allow that to happen."

I take his hand and squeeze. "I did this. It's my fault."

"What?" he asks, startled. "No, of course it's not! What are you talking about? My mother beat me because I dropped her favorite bowl."

"Sure," I mutter. "But I'm still sorry."

He sighs. "It's fine, really."

None of us mentions his love confession for me that he made earlier today. Perhaps he realizes it was definitely not the right time to mention it. Or maybe he just wants to forget it, because my reaction was so unexpected.

His arms tighten around me once again, and then release. "Goodnight, Katniss."

I watch him sadly as he gets up and leaves, my voice like a small, lost child.

"Goodnight, Peeta."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks sooo much to everyone who reviewed! Also, Gale and his family are not from the Seam in this story:) Sorry, I know I haven't updated in like a month.**

**Review! Je t'aime! 3 Anna:D **

A Light In The Dark

Chapter Four

The next day, it is announced that Peeta, his brothers, and his father are going on a trip to District 11, to visit some nice bakeries or something stupid. Helen and I will stay and run the shop for the five days they're gone.

Peeta doesn't want to leave me, not in the mental state I'm in, but I insist I'll be fine. I don't mention how nervous I am that I will be alone with Helen. She could do anything to me, and nobody would know.

It is Monday, the last day before they leave. Five days with Helen; I'm not sure I can deal. But for today, I just spend as much time with Peeta and away from her. We actually talk, and we bake a huge cake. The icing turns out somewhat messy, but it sends us both into hysterics for some reason. It does look funny, with half of it neat from Peeta's hand and the other half a disaster, as if some animal has attacked it with icing. My work, undoubtedly.

I reach out, laughing, and wipe a stripe of green frosting from Peeta's cheek. He grins and wipes a handful of it across my face.

"Peeta!" I shriek, trying to be mad but failing. We start laughing again, and the usual rain that pours down around one does nothing to dampen our spirits. If anything, it makes them brighter.

But then the night comes and Peeta goes to his room to pack. I sit on the couch in the living room, the same one that I slept on when I was injured a week or two ago. Only by tomorrow, Peeta won't be there for me. Five days with the witch.

The sun sets and I curl up into a ball, biting my lip, trying not to let the tears come. I _need _Peeta here. It's hard to admit, but I do. What am I to do without him? Helen could beat me to death and he won't even know until he arrives home on Saturday.

Panic sets in. What if my mother comes back for me? Peeta can't save me, and Helen will probably just let her take me. It's minutes before I realize I'm hyperventilating.

I jump as something sharp closes around my arm. Helen's fingernails, sharp as talons. I whimper as she tightens her grip and leans into my face.

"You'd better behave while they're gone, you brat," she hisses. "You better help out and be grateful, or you'll be sorry."

She stands and walks away as if nothing has happened, and I'm left with a horrible feeling and a stinging arm.

The tears come without warning, in a panicked way that makes my breathing difficult. I cry silently, shaking, curled into a pathetic ball. Tomorrow Peeta will be gone. Gone, for five days.

Peeta finds me almost an hour later, when his suitcase is all packed and ready to go. "Oh, Katniss," he says, sitting next to me and pulling me into a hug. "It's going to be alright, you know? I'll be back soon, and I can give you the number of the place we're staying so you can call."

I nod numbly, not meeting his gaze. I can't bring myself to. It will just hurt me more.

Eventually, Peeta helps me up and leads me to my room. He hugs me, tight, and then, hesitantly, plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. He will be gone early in the morning, before I am even awake. He shuts the door, and I am left in darkness.

I cry myself to sleep.

I wake up miserable. The sun is shining brightly, and I know with a horribly empty feeling that Peeta is gone. Five days may seem short for other, normal people, but to me it's hell. And it's only the first day.

I consider lying in bed, not moving, in a state of depression, for the whole day like I have done often before. But I can't, because about ten minutes later Helen comes to get me up.

"Get up, you dumb girl!" she shouts, pounding on the door so hard I jump. "Prove yourself useful and come help me run the shop!"

Grumbling, I pull myself out of bed. I throw a fresh change of clothes and drag myself downstairs, where Helen is waiting for me. She shoves a recipe in my hands and pushes me towards the pantry. Luckily, Peeta has found the time to teach me some baking, though I am afraid it won't turn out good.

I look down the the recipe instruction sheet. Wheat bread. Well, at least she doesn't expect me to bake a cake. _That _would be a disaster, and it would definitely push her over the edge of her fragile line of patience.

I gather all the ingredients and set them on the counter. Helen immediately starts screaming at me, saying that it's _her _workspace and that I have to find my own. Good lord, this woman is insane.

I find another corner of the countertop. It's small and cramped, but it will have to do. Better a limited space than a beating, which I would seriously like to avoid, especially on the first day.

I start by mixing the basic ingredients, cautiously but at a decent pace so as not to upset Helen. She doesn't seem to be paying any attention, however. She's immersed in making her cake. Twenty minutes in, after the bread's in the over and I'm cleaning up, she starts chattering with a customer that walks in. They blab on and on about the wedding the cake is for. I don't know the couple, never heard of them. But I suppose they must be rich, if they are ordering a wedding cake this intricate and expensive.

"Katniss, hurry up," Helen snaps. "Mrs. Hawthorne is waiting for her bread."

Gale's mother. Madge talks about Gale almost every minute of the day. Mrs. Hawthorne is a petite, light-haired woman with a kind face.

She smiles sympathetically and says, "Oh, it's alright, Helen, I'm not in a rush. Take your time, Katniss."

Helen scowls. "No, she's been especially slow lately." She grabs my arm and hisses into my ear, "Hurry up, damn girl! You're going to get it!"

The oven beeps, and I go to take the bread out, rubbing my stinging arm. I see that Gale's mother is looking a little worried, but she calmly takes the bread and leaves.

As soon as she's out of sight, Helen steps forward and slaps me across, so hard I hit the counter behind me and fall to the floor, staring at her in shock. This is exactly what I knew would happen. This will go on for five days. With a horrible pang, I realize Peeta forgot to write down the number of where he's staying. So now, I am without help.

"You _dumb, _ungrateful _brat_! You're going to ruin our business! What do you think you're doing?" she screams. She grabs my wrist and pins me against the wall. "You'd better be faster, or I'm going to beat you till-"

The bell above the door rings, and Helen pulls away from me. I slump down the floor as she turns around, but it's too late, whoever it is has bound to have seen what just happened.

"Oh, my..." the man says. "Is it a bad time, Helen?"

"No, no," she says, waving it away. "Just had an issue, but it's all resolved now, isn't it, Katniss?"

The man is looking at me with a mix of concern and pity, which makes me angry. I don't _want _his pity. I _always _get peoples' pity. Help, maybe, I would appreciate, but just feeling sad for me isn't enough.

"Yes," I force out. "Yes, everything's fine."

He nods slowly but still doesn't look like he believes me. Oh, well.

The man buys a few pastries then departs, and Helen is careful not to touch me the rest of the day, even when I burn a perfectly good batch of cookies. But then closing time comes, and all hell breaks loose.

The minute the lights are off and the doors locked, Helen grabs me by the hair and drags me into the guest room.

"You _stupid _Seam girl! You just about ruined our business today!" she shrieks. I am shaking, knowing there's a beating coming.

She pushes me onto the bed and pins me down. Then she slaps my legs; hard, painful blows that make me cry out with every one. Punches and pinches, until my legs are red and bruised. "You had better behave yourself tomorrow!"

She leaves, and I'm left to sob on the bed, wincing from the pain. How can she be so horrible? I've already received enough beatings for every child in the Seam from my parents. What is it with abusive people in my life?

I cry myself to sleep, something I've been doing a lot lately. I did that just about every night when I lived with my parents. Four more days to go.

I realize that if she beat me on the first night, there are far worse things in store for me. Did Peeta lie by saying she only hit them sometimes so it wouldn't worry me? I imagine her beating Peeta, but I can't remember ever have seen marks or bruises on him. Did he cover them up?

The days pass surprisingly quickly. There are no more direct beatings, but I will receive a slap or a punch when I do something wrong. There's always the verbal abuse-stupid, worthless, Seam brat. She even develops a new favorite. Slut. This one hurts even more than the others, for some reason. I don't really know why. Friday. Peeta will be home tomorrow. I get out of bed, wincing. Helen hit me with a rolling pin last night, and I have a huge bruise on my back. I push the pain away, though, knowing tomorrow I will be saved.

"Morning, slut," Helen growls when I enter the kitchen. "Get to work."

I push away tears as I begin making the daily bread and rolls. I've gotten better throughout the week, knowing that if I mess up I'll pay.

My stomach growls. Helen has barely fed me a meal or two a day, and I'm starving. I can swear I'm even thinner. It's even more torturing to make food, to smell the haunting aroma, and not eat. Helen constantly eats, as she's fat and overly healthy. She has never gone hungry a day in her life.

I resent almost everyone who lives in the good part of the district, who never have to go hungry. Madge usually only eats half her lunch, insisting she's not hungry. She always has snacks during school, and fruit and other expensive items in her lunch. Whenever I go to her house, I eat everything she gives me and take advantage of it.

The day passes. I only receive a slap and a hard push, along with her usual degrading comments, so it goes better than usual. She probably doesn't want to leave any marks that the rest of the family will see. I'm sure Peeta would freak. But what could he do about it? Confronting his mother would only result in him getting hurt. His father would be upset, but I would be burdening him again. So the only option is to not tell anyone. It will be painful, but why should I bother others with my problems?

Saturday morning comes and I'm up early, excited to meet Peeta, Rye, Brandon and Mr. Mellark at the train station. Helen has opted to stay home and run the bakery. It's a miracle she let me go, actually. Maybe she didn't want to look suspicious. Yes, that's what happened. She didn't want me to tell them she wouldn't let me go.

I practically run all the way to the station and stand on the platform, the early morning breeze making me shiver. The sun has barely risen, so the station is eerily quiet except for the old man in the ticket booth, drumming his fingers along his desk in a bored manner. I wrap my arms around my torso, cold. The morning dew is still perched on the green grass that is growing alongside the tracks.

I hear a distant train whistle and smile, the first in days. I can practically see Peeta, nearly jumping from anticipation. I wonder if he had a fun trip. I sure hope so. _He _didn't spend it being hit and brought down by a hellish woman.

The train comes around the corner, a very fancy one that glides smoothly on the tracks. I have never ridden a train, but have been to the station a number of times.

It stops, and the door opens. I run to Peeta and attack him in a hug. He laughs and his arms tighten around me. "I missed you, Kat."

"I missed you too," I say, my voice muffled by his shirt. Finally he releases me and frowns.

"You feel smaller than usual. Have you been eating?"

"Peeta, I'm fine," I tell him, waving his concern away. "You worry too much."

We get back home and Helen makes us a big breakfast, though I notice she's been careful to give me a small amount. Don't want to waste food on me.

Mr. Mellark releases us four from work today, much to the disapproval and anger of Helen. Rye goes to visit his girlfriend, and Brandon heads off to hang out with some kids from school. This leaves Peeta and I to do whatever we want.

"How did the week go?" he asks. We're sitting in my room. It was the guest room, but it is now occupied by my few meager possessions.

I avoid his gaze. "Fine."

"Come on, Kat, did something happen?" He looks worried now.

"Peeta, stop worrying about me!" I burst out. "Everything was _fine_!"

"Okay." He says uncomfortably. "But you can always tell me if-"

"Go away!" I yell, a sudden burst of anger overcoming me. I immediately feel horrible. "I'm sorry," I tell him miserably.

"It's okay," he says.

We sit in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. I jump as Helen screams up to Peeta to "get his ass downstairs now". I shoot him an apologetic glance as he leaves. I don't want her to hurt him.

As soon as the screaming starts, I press my hands over my ears and curl up miserably on the bed. This is completely my fault. I've ruined this perfect family. That's all sluts do is ruin things. Why am I a slut? I don't know why Helen has labeled me as such. I have never done anything wrong as far as _that _went. I know you aren't supposed to do dirty things like that, especially since I am not married. I am only fourteen, for God's sake. How could she accuse me of such a thing? I guess I deserve it, though.

Tears leak out of my eyes. _I _should be the one down there, taking the beating for him. He is innocent; perfect. He is overly kind and never rude to anyone. He gives me comfort when I don't even deserve it.

Almost an hour later, Peeta returns to my room and sits on the bed. I stare ahead at the wall and ignore him. The pain is too much.

"Kat," he says, softly.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Katniss." He sets a hand on my shoulder, but quickly removes it as I flinch. "What's the matter?"

I don't say anything for a long time. I can barely bring myself to, but I finally whisper, "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry, Peeta." I finally, slowly, open my eyes. Peeta looks so sad, it's awful.

"It's not your fault, Kat," he tells me, for the umpteenth time. "Mom's always been like that."

"Yes, but I made it worse."

He sighs. "You didn't."

I close my eyes again. "Can you please go away? I don't want to talk now."

This hurts the most, when I look again and see his hurt expression as he leaves. It hurts, because I have to keep away from him. It will keep him the most safe. I will distance myself from him, and Helen will have one less reason to beat him.

Or so I hope.

**Like it? Well, then, review and tell me! Also, ideas as to what should happen further into the story are both needed and extremely welcome! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, you guys are officially the best fans ever. I am so sorry to have kept to you all waiting this long! I had a writer's block for this story. Writer's block absolutely sucks. Plus I've been in China for two and a half weeks. But we are home Saturday morning, our new baby sister in tow, and I will post this sometime that day. Again, I'm really sorry. But the good news is that chapter six is on its way and is about halfway done! It might even be done by the time this is posted. Sorry this one is short. But you should definitely review! So sorry for all the reviewers who are like "I've been waiting for weeks!". I am sorry. But don't you do stuff other than wait for my chapters? I have never been super attached to a fanfic for more than a day or two. However, for those of you who are attached to this...YOU ARE THE MOST AMAZING PEOPLE IN THE WORLD! I LOVE YOU SOO MUCH!**

** On with the story! Reviews are welcomed with open arms! **

A Light In The Dark

Chapter Five

The next day is one of the worst of my life-and that's saying something. I ignore Peeta and address him coldly when I have to. I can see how confused and hurt he is, and I want so bad to apologize, to explain to him, but Helen is always present and I can't. The fortunate thing is, Helen doesn't yell or hit Peeta at all. I think this is what she wanted all this time-to tear us apart and cause us more pain than the beatings could ever bring.

I check the clock. Ten after three. Helen has been acting a lot nicer than usual, not yelling when she instructs us.

"Peeta," I say brusquely, avoiding his gaze, "pass the flour."

I see Helen smirk from behind him as he hands it to me, wearing a crushed expression. I really don't know why he hasn't started hating me yet. I expect him to be mean to me back by now. Why isn't he?

I'm so distracted that as Peeta lets go of the bin, my fingers don't grab it properly and it goes crashing to the ground, spilling everywhere. Helen rushes over and grabs Peeta's arm, her fingernails digging into his skin. I see him wince and pull him away from her, standing in front of him.

"It-it was my fault. He didn't do it." I stammer.

Helen scowls. "Clean it up."

Peeta stares, wide-eyed, as she walks away. "Katniss," he starts, "what-"

"Be quiet!" I hiss. "Just help me!"

He bends to the ground obediently as I grab the broom, a sharp shard of guilt in my stomach. At least Helen hasn't hit either one of us. It's worth it, I tell myself, to keep Peeta safe. I deserve this, he doesn't. I'm a slut, he's a kind person and hard worker.

Soon enough, we have the mess cleaned up and thrown away. I know I'll be punished later for wasting good baking materials, but I really don't want to think about that, so for now I just go to the pantry to fetch another bin of flour.

The rain starts pouring down, and Helen curses. "Katniss, go get the laundry! Hurry!"

I scamper out into the small backyard and grab the shirts and laundry off of the clothesline. As I run back inside, my bare feet, wet from the rain, slip on the floor. I flip backwards and my head slams into the tile so hard I almost black out. The clothes are strewn all over the floor, wrinkled and wet.

"Oh, God," Helen growls, bending to pick them up. "You can't do anything right." She walks upstairs, leaving me blinking away tears and trying to rise.

"Katniss?" Peeta sounds panicked. He's kneeling next to me. "Are you alright?"

"I-" I force myself to sit up, squinting as the kitchen tilts and sways along with Peeta. "I'm fine."

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure." I say, forcing a smile. "Thank you for your concern."

I stand up and stumble, gripping the back of a chair. I stay there until my surroundings have righted themselves, and then Helen comes rushing back down the stairs. "Help get ready for dinner, you two."

I stagger to the silverware drawer and set the forks and knives out. Pretty soon, Mr. Mellark, Rye and Brandon are all downstairs. My serving is even less than usual, but I eat fast so the others won't notice, and nobody does. I'm sure Peeta's father would have gotten me some more, but only out of obligation, so I wouldn't starve. He must still think I'm a burden. They all do, except maybe Peeta, though he should. It's not right for him to be so good to me. Not right at all. He deserves better.

"Katniss, drink your water," Helen snaps.

I obey, the table awkwardly silent. It usually is quiet, the only noise the clinking of glass and silverware, but tonight it is directed at me.

Finally Rye clears his throat. "Uh, thanks for dinner," he says. "May I be excused?"

I expect Helen to scream at him, seeing as his plate is still half-full, but she smiles in a creepy, witch-like way and says, "Yes, dear. The rest of you can go, too. Katniss, will you stay and help me with the dishes?"

I nod hesitantly and stand as everyone else leaves. I hear doors slamming and know I'm on my own with the devil. Nobody's going to help me.

At first nothing happens. But then I drop a plate and I know I'm doomed.

She says nothing as I sweep up the pieces with my hands, the glass cutting my palms. But as soon as the dishwasher's loaded and she has put the soap in to start it, she grabs me by the hair and drags me across the kitchen, throwing me into the rainy alley. I tumble to the ground, falling into a puddle and instantly getting soaked.

Helen slams the door and steps toward me. I flinch and attempt to crawl backwards, but the fall jarred my head again and I'm dizzy, so I don't accomplish anything by doing this.

She takes off her belt-a thick, leather one. I wonder how many times she's done this to her own sons.

"No!" I shriek, covering my head. The first lash hits my ribs, and I let out a choked cry.

"Lay down. And shut up or I'll give you more than ten," she hisses. Then she smiles. "And I'll give Peeta twenty."

My eyes widen and I slump to the ground, defeated. My body convulses in pain with every strike, but I bite my tongue and make small, whimpering noises that are drowned out by the rain.

The slap of the belt rings through the alley. It's so incredibly painful. I know I'm not going to be able to move hardly at all tomorrow, but to me it's worth it. Because she's not going to hit Peeta. Because he's safe.

I lose count at about five because the pain is so overwhelming, but I'm almost positive I get more than ten strikes. Finally, she kicks me and the verbal abuse begins.

"You _stupid _Seam slut! You're so ungrateful!" she screams, grabbing my hair and yanking me upwards. I'm sure anybody could hear hear, but not many people are out late in the evening, especially with the rain. "You're ugly trash, you are! You slut, I bet you've been sleeping with all my sons. Bitch!"

She shoves me away from her, like she's disgusted to even touch me, and goes back inside, leaving me crumpled and shivering on the pavement. It's only then that I glance down the alley, towards the street, and see a figure. As he walks closer, cautiously, as if Helen would burst out the door and start beating him with a belt too, I see who is with a start. Gale Hawthorne, standing with a horrified expression on his face. I can see he's realizing why his mother was distraught when she came home from the bakery last week, can tell he's making sense of the screaming and crashes that are always heard when one walks by. A lot of people in town know I've been living with the Mellarks, and they've noticed Helen resents me.

Soon enough he's standing right in front of me. I don't meet his gaze, just stare at the rain hitting the pavement where I had lain only minutes ago, taking a beating and insults for Peeta. And he's seen and heard it all.

"Katniss?" He asks, sounding very unsure. I wouldn't blame him. We aren't too close, but because of Madge we know a lot about each other.

"Hello." I say brokenly, without much emotion. Emptiness with a smudge of pain, perhaps.

"What h-I mean, are you alright?" he says, stumbling over his words.

I finally meet his eyes, dark grey like mine. A mark of the Seam. His hair is almost identical to mine, too. We could be siblings, really, but it's lucky we aren't. I wouldn't want my parents or Helen to have another person to beat.

"I'm never alright, Gale," I say honestly. "You wanna know where all my injuries come from? Not falling, nobody can be that damn clumsy. But from my parents, and _that _hell of a woman." I incline my head towards the bakery door.

"She...she _beat _you with a belt," he says, in shock. "My mother would never-"

"Well I'm glad _you're _a nice goody-two-shoes, than," I snap. "I'd appreciate if you left me alone and not tell anyone what you just witnessed."

"But..Katniss," he says, a warring expression on his face, "You need to get help. That's _illegal, _and horrible, and-"

"And I'm perfectly fine," I say. "The person who _won't _be fine is you if you don't clear out soon. Helen will love an excuse to say I'm sleeping with yet another male."

His eyes widen. "_What? _Katniss, you don't-?"

"Of course I don't!" I snarl. "You think I'm that disgusting? I don't do anything of the sort! She just likes to call me a slut, and a bitch, and-"

"Okay," he cuts in, and I can tell my colorful use of language is disturbing him. He _is _a goody-two-shoes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't accuse you of such things."

I nod. "Well, you should get going. And don't tell anyone, alright?"

He looks pained. "Okay. Be careful."

He disappears down the alley and out into the rainy street. As I watch him go, I can't shake the little voice in my head that's whispering, "There goes your last chance for a rescue."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for being my fans! I 3 you all! This chapter's kinda depressing but it will get better! I am also considering writing a sequel once this one's done. What do you think? **

**Warning: this contains some self-harming and of course, abuse and violence. Mild language. **

A Light In the Dark

Chapter 6

Every day is the same. Pain-filled, not just from the beatings but from hurting Peeta by the way I'm treating him. But I keep telling myself it's worth it, if I can just keep Peeta safe.

Maybe I long for his arms around me, but that's selfish. I can't get what I want. If there's anything I've learned in life, it's that you never get what you want.

It's been almost a month since Helen beat me with that belt, and that wasn't the only time. She's careful not to bruise my face, so that nobody will notice. I'm still incredibly sore; I can't make any sudden movements or pain shoots through me. I think Brandon has noticed me wincing, but I guess he knows to keep his mouth shut because he hasn't mentioned it. I'm beat every day, the secret of it threatening to bubble up inside me and explode. I feel weighed down by my burdens. But then again, _I'm _a burden to everyone I'm around so I really shouldn't be complaining.

Peeta's really given up trying to talk to me. The first few days, he tried to find out what was the matter, but I wasn't cracking that easily.

"Katniss, did I do something wrong?" he asked desperately.

I clenched my fists. "I can't tell you."

He sighed. "Why not?"

"I just can't."

He opened his mouth to protest, but instead jumped as Helen slammed the kitchen door.

"Get back to work, both of you!" she roared. I was thankful for the interruption.

Now we stand making cookies silently. I've stopped asking him to pass things-what's the point of manners?-and I just reach across him for the baking powder.

Peeta clears his throat, and I roll my eyes. _Here we go again. _He's developed a habit of casual talk. Nothing about him, nothing about me, not really. The weather, local news. I think he's trying to make me slip up and tell him what's going on. I don't know why he bothers, really. He hates me, or he should, so why does he take such effort to be nice to me? I am doing a better job of not wrecking their family, but sooner or later my secret will be out and the Mellarks will fall apart, all because of me.

"So, uh, school's starting again soon," he says uncomfortably.

"Mmm hmm," I tell him absently as I mix the bowl of dry ingredients.

"Maybe we'll have some classes together."

My eyes fly to his and I regard him sharply. Doesn't he know what will happen if we do? "Maybe."

I drop his gaze and add the butter and milk. I do wonder what eighth grade will be like. I hope we don't have too many classes together-Helen will suspect we're being friends at school.

"My mother's been a lot nicer than usual," he says. "Maybe she finally likes you."

I flinch, and I catch sight of his concerned expression in the reflection of the oven window. Has he really not been acting this whole time, or does he still hate me? I don't blame him for the latter. He should hate me, he should.

Do I love him? I rack my brain, pulling memories and feelings from shelves and searching through them to perhaps unearth something. But everything seems numb, incapable of deciding or finding anything.

What is wrong with me?

Even if I _do _love him, I will never come close to deserving him. I can't decide if he was telling the truth or not when he confessed his love, but a perfect person like him shouldn't be stuck with a broken girl like me.

But he's so gentle, so kind, that I can't help and think that I would like to love him.

A feeling of self-hate and pain spreads over me. Why am I so selfish and disgusting? Peeta wouldn't want me. Nobody wants a slut, and I don't blame them. I am ugly and disgusting.

Some small voice in me whispers, "But you're _not _a slut.". However, the heaviness of the beatings, verbal abuse and feelings of self-loathing crush it to pieces and throw away the remains. My mind is a dark, dark place I can't escape.

I feel tears at the back of my eyes. The weight of my thoughts bears hard on me. I hate myself. I deserve these beatings.

I don't realize the tray of cookies has dropped from my fingertips until the crash of metal on the floor snaps me back into reality. Two dozen pieces of our hard work lay broken and ruined on the floor. Peeta must have handed them to me when I was zoned out. Of course, since I'm dumb and can't do anything right, I ruined them. I destroyed them, just like I destroy everything I touch.

_Idiot, _hisses the devil inside me. _You don't deserve to live, do you? _

"No," I whisper, almost inaudible. "I don't."

In a flash, I turn away from Peeta and run upstairs, ignoring the confused look of Rye as I push past him in the hallway. I find the guest bathroom, the mirror still shattered, and bolt the door. I sink to the floor as I burst into sobs, my body shaking.

The pain builds. I can't do this anymore. Fourteen years of misery is what I deserve, but I don't want it.

The screams downstairs make me cry harder. Helen is hurting Peeta, and my efforts were for nothing. Why do I hurt everyone I'm near? I tried to protect him, but I only made things worse. Why do I _always _make everything worse?

I need relief from this mental pain. The beatings aren't enough to punish me. After searching through the sink drawers for anything sharp, I find what I'm looking for; a Swiss army knife, old by the looks of it, but sharp and clean nonetheless.

I yank up my sleeve. _I deserve this. _I pop the blade out and drag it across my forearm, hissing as it breaks skin. The blood comes faster than I expected, and it stings, but somehow it feels soothing. Relieving. It distracts me from my mental wounds.

Wonderful. Now I'm a cutter as well as an abuse victim.

The blood is dark as it trickles down my arm and stops at my wrist. I make another cut, and then another, until I have half a dozen trails of blood dripping off my arm. I breathe a sigh of relief. The red liquid feels soothing on my bare skin.

I jump as someone knocks on the door. It's soft, but I'm doing something so secretive that I am feeling extremely paranoid and alert. "Katniss?"

"Go away," I mumble, hurrying to wash my arm and wrap it in bandages I found under the sink. I slip the blade under a stack of towels and crack open the door. Peeta's face is red, and I know Helen hit him. Hard. It makes my blood run warm with anger.

"She hit you again." I practically growl. Behind my anger is layers of pain and hurt, all caused by Helen.

He looks sad. "Yeah. What are you doing? Why'd you run up so fast?"

His words sting me for some reason, though I know they're unintentional. My response is quiet, but I know he hears it.

"Because I'm a coward."

His face looks pained as I shove past him and run. I am planning to run out of the house, but Helen disrupts my plans. I scream as she comes from nowhere and slams me into the countertop. I crumple to the ground, whimpering, as Helen grabs the front of my shirt and leans into my face. I must have hit a drawer handle or something jagged or sharp, because there's a cut on my cheek that's bleeding.

"You dirty slut," she snarls. "You can't do anything right!"

"Stop," I beg, as she undoes her belt. "No, please!"

She raises it and brings it down, screaming obscenities. It hits harder than ever before, and I let out a shriek of agony that I'm sure echoes through the entire house. She is too mad to wait to beat me until she's dragged me into the alley, so she simply does it in the middle of the kitchen.

The second slap makes me emit a strangled sob of pain as I curl on the floor and attempt to shield myself. I wait for the third, as she raises the belt again...

"Helen!" I look over to see Mr. Mellark standing at the stairs, a shocked look on his face and his three sons behind him, wearing similar expressions. I remain crumpled on the cold tile, broken as ever, staring at them without really seeing, looking straight through them.

"What the _hell _is going on?" He looks outraged now.

"I'm giving her what she deserves!" she shouts, and brings the belt down again, without warning. I scream and break into damaged sobs. She kicks me, and Mr. Mellark runs over to pull his wife away from me.

"Stop it!" he yells, as she continues to swear and struggle against him. She finally does, and Mr. Mellark turns the the boys, still waiting on the stairs. Peeta looks horrified. Don't really blame him.

He addresses Rye, Brandon and Peeta. "Take Katniss and go upstairs, please. Your mother and I need to talk."

Peeta rushes forward to scoop me up. I wince and close my eyes, not wanting to look at any of them.

Rye and Brandon return to their rooms, and Peeta brings me to his. He sets me on his bed and I lay silently as he strokes the hair out of my face and drags a chair up.

"Katniss," he says, his voice breaking. I can tell he's trying hard not to cry, and I hate when people cry, so I don't look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

My voice is so broken as I speak that I'm surprised I even managed words. "Because...because I was trying to protect you."

Understanding darkens his face. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since I started being mean to you. I wanted to keep her away from you. It worked, but she hurt me every day." I say this without emotion as I stare past him at a spot on the wall.

"You took those beatings for me?" he asks, and as I meet his beautiful blue eyes I see his heart shatter into a million pieces, right along with mine.

"Yes." I say, taking his hand weakly. "I did."

**Chapter Seven coming soon! Even sooner if you review! ;D **


	7. Chapter 7

**I am soo sorry for the long wait! I'm so busy with school! And home is crazy, too! Lots of homework, and it's just plain crazy with my new sister. But thank you so much for your continuous support! I do not know when I will be updating my other stories, so you'll have to forgive me. :( **

**Not the best writing, but I hope you won't be mad! I am still trying to keep it going. **

I** really want to get around 75-100 reviews! It would mean the world to me, none of my other stories have gotten that many. If I promise to update more, will you help me get more reviews? **

** Love,**

** Anna **

**A Light In The Dark **

** Chapter Seven**

I can hear the yelling from downstairs as I squeeze my eyes shut. When will it stop? When will I quit causing destruction? Helen is telling the truth. I can never do anything right. I mess everything up. Why can't I be perfect, like Peeta?

_Because this is what you deserve. _

I flinch and open my eyes. Peeta has not moved his gaze from my face, and he's still holding my hand, looking desperately concerned.

"Why are you so worried about me, Peeta?" I ask him. "What have I ever done to deserve your concern?"

His apprehensive look is replaced by the common sad one. I am really fed up with his sad looks. He's too beautiful to look sad, but I've broken his heart just the same. All my fault, all my fault. Just like always.

I flinch as a crash resounds through the house, followed by screaming. What have I done, _what have I done? _I've ruined their family, because I'm a stupid Seam slut and I can't do anything right.

The pain builds up again, and I feel the sudden urge to drag that cool, metal blade across my arm again, to break the skin and feel the soothing blood trickling out. To dig the blade deeper than I did before. It does not hurt as much as Helen's beatings and it hurts far less than the mental pain, but it is enough to distract me. I want it, I crave for it.

But Peeta's here. I can't do anything that will raise suspicion. At least the beatings aren't a burdening secret anymore. The whole family knows now, and now it will just be a secret to keep from the rest of the world.

With a pang, I think of Gale Hawthorne, that day weeks ago when he found me crumpled in the alleyway. _He _knows. And I don't completely trust him. It's not as if he seems too untrustworthy; I barely know him, and he seems like a decent person, but I don't trust others easily. I trusted Peeta-look how far that got me. Beatings every day, it was _really _worth it. There is a part of me that trusts Peeta sometimes-the hopeful part that is all but squashed-that still keeps living on inside me despite my brokenness. What choice do I have but to trust him? There's nowhere else to turn, and I can still trust him partially, even if my darkest secrets remain locked inside.

I hope desperately that Gale Hawthorne will keep his mouth shut. If Helen discovers I've told someone-well, I cringe just thinking about it. Peeta and I's lives now are nice compared to what they will be if that happens.

Peeta says, "Kat...I...I just...care. How can somebody _not _care about you? Why are you always thinking that?"

"Because I'm a worthless piece of trash!" I shout, sitting up and immediately regretting it. I fall from the bed, overcome with dizziness, and Peeta grabs me before I hit the floor and helps me lay back down.

"You're not," he says quietly. "You just believe what other people tell you."

"Because it's true," I spit at him. "My parents have been telling me that since the day I was born, Peeta, d'you think they'd waste time telling me if it wasn't true?"

This is the first time I've seen Peeta angry, but he is pretty damn mad. His face contorts as he scowls, and it looks unfortunate on him because he's usually so kind-looking. "Katniss, your parents are low, sick people who are going to go to hell when this life's over, without a doubt. You are _amazing. _I'm _in love _with you and I have been for years."

I snort. "You were in love with that little bruised girl who never had any friends? Whose father came to pick her up and screamed at her in front of the class? I know you're nice, Peeta, but you don't have to lie to try and make me feel better. It doesn't work. I know what I am."

"You still _are _that little bruised girl, Kat," he tells me softly. "You've been through too much. And I'm not lying!"

Something inside me snaps. "_Why _are you _doing _this?" I shout. "Are you trying to make a fool out of me? Trying to hurt me even more than I've already been hurt? What the hell?"

"I-"

"Don't even _start, _Peeta. Just leave me alone. I don't need you." With great effort, I turn over in the bed so my back faces him, and I'm glad I have a dark shirt on so he won't see the bruises. This effort makes me nauseous, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my hands to my temples.

"Kat..." Peeta's voice cuts through my pain. I wince. I wish he'd quit playing with me, quit pretending. If it is true, though...then I would like him back. But my head squashes this. He doesn't like me. He never will. "You're hurt. You're bleeding. Can't I...can't I at least help bandage you?"

"I don't need your help." I say coldly, knowing he'll be stunned by the mess of pain on my back, "but I don't care anymore. There's not much you can do to fix me inside anyways."

He gently pulls up the back of my shirt and gasps. I twist around to register his horrified expression and know what he's seeing; layers and layers of bruises and scars and blood. The remnants of pain. And the faint marks of-

"Her belt." He whispers weakly, tracing the shadows lightly with his fingers. "Oh, Katniss, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

For once, I can't bring myself to snap at him. Maybe Peeta's not bad. At this point, he's the only person I have. I remember that he's always so nice to everyone. How he's perfect and I'm not. And I think, that maybe I should make peace with him. Not hate him. He's my only chance.

"It's not your fault, Peeta," I say, barely audible. "It's never your fault. Always mine." I don't say this hatefully. It's true, and I don't resent him for it. I resent myself, for being so awful and such a burden.

Peeta doesn't answer, but I can see the pain etched in his face as he wipes the blood away and bandages my back. I try not to wince, but it stings and I hiss from between my teeth. It's nothing I can't handle, however. I've been through plenty of pain to go around.

My back's bandaged before I know it. Peeta's name is shouted from downstairs, and I can only hope Mr. Mellark is still down there to keep him safe.

"Stay here," he says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. I try to follow him, but the pain in my back overwhelms me and I sink back into bed.

How did things get so messed up? How did I wind up in this tangled maze of abuse? I run from one home to escape it, and only end up in the clutches of another monster. Helen and my mother could be best friends, except my mother's a poor Seam woman and Helen has far too much dignity to be seen around scum like that. I wish I had a mother; a real mother, that is. One who doesn't hit me when I mess up, or beat me for falling onto the floor. A real mother would gently correct her daughter; a real mother would help me up and comfort me if I was hurting.

No adult in my life has ever done so.

Perhaps Mr. Mellark has helped me, but not like a father would. I do not blame him at all; I am not his daughter, I am not his family, I am not and should not be his responsibility. I should _definitely _not be his burden, but somehow I am anyways. Somehow, I've dragged him into feeding another mouth, into being responsible for four children when three was already more than enough. I've torn his family apart.

I remember the very first time my mother hit me. I was around four or five. My parents had always been hurtful and neglecting, but it was never physical abuse. I was young, but I was able to cope with the scolding and mean words. I thought it was normal. I never questioned it, and since Prim, tiny baby Prim no more than a few months old was treated with love and care, I thought it was because I was a bad girl. That's what they told me. That I didn't behave. I know now that I didn't deserve it back then; I know now that currently I do deserve it. I am a monster and a horrible one at that. I lost my innocence and carefree attitude a few years after, but not then. Not at the princess age, when every little girl remains bright no matter what.

I didn't know I'd be squashed like a bug by age seven.

I was playing in my room with an old tea set that belonged to my grandmother, my mother's mother. It was very valuable, and it was supposed to only be as decoration up on the shelf. But I figured that if I put it back soon, before my mother found out, then everything would be alright. She would never know.

I bumped into one of my little dolls by accident, and its delicate porcelain hand brushed into its teacup and knocked it to the floor. I watched in horror as it broke to pieces before me.

I was scrambling to pick up the china shards, not noticing my hands were bleeding, because I was so panicked about cleaning it up, when the door opened. My mother stood in the door, an irritated look on her usual stern face. The cold blue color narrowed to slits.

My mother's eyes are a horribly cruel blue, not like innocent Prim's. Prim's eyes made you trust her; my mother's made you want to run in the opposite direction.

"Katniss." she growled, stepping towards me. I flinched and looked up at her, my fear evident on my little face. I didn't know back then that you are supposed to act as if you're unafraid. The punishment is worse, is always worse, if you're showing fear. Cowards are not accepted in the Everdeen household.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Mommy," I said, scrambling backwards like a poor little bug. "I didn't mean to! It...it won't happen again!"

"No, it won't! You stupid little brat! You take something of mine and ruin it!" she screamed. "You can't do anything right!"

Before I could move, she struck me across the face. I crumpled to the ground, shocked. She _hit _me. I stared up at her in fear, praying she wouldn't hit me again. She screamed at me to clean it up, but she didn't hit me again.

I didn't know that wasn't the only time it would happen. I didn't know she and my father would torture me for the next nine years of my life. I didn't know I'd lose everything.

I do now.

A muffled sob comes from me as I bury my face into the pillow. _You can't do anything right. You're worthless. You deserve even more pain than you have now. _

I know this little voice is right. The voice is always right about everything. I have learned not to argue, not to fight against it. It always wins.

That's why I scramble up and lock myself in the bathroom, sitting on the cold floor, leaning against the toilet. I stare up at the fragmented mirror, shattered like I am. I reach for the blade and find it right where I left it, hidden under the stack of clean white towels. I slide out the blade and let out a breath I don't realize I'd been holding as it breaks my marred skin. Dark blood, the light stinging and satisfying sensation. I feel the tension drain from me, and I dig it harder as I hear the voice telling me I deserve more pain. I don't stop, and before I know it my arm is bleeding more than I'd have liked. I swear loudly and press a towel to the mess the blade has left.

But the blood doesn't stop, and for a second I panic. It's really not so much that I'm scared I'll die; I really couldn't care less. I'm just worried Peeta will discover my secret.

I come to realize that I am not _trying _to kill myself, I'm not suicidal; but if I go too far, make some mistake that adds up to my demise, I will not care. I will not try and save myself, I will not be sad.

I suck in a deep breath and press the towel harder. To my relief, the blood slows down to barely a trickle. I reach under the sink and grab bandages, which I wrap around my forearm after washing it. Then I slip the sleeve down, so that nobody will see.

A troubling thought occurs to me as I open the door and retreat to the dark recesses of my bed, the room black. I curl under the covers and try to push it away, but I can't.

_I can't keep secrets forever. _


End file.
